


Prayers and Gratitude

by littlebark



Series: Linette Trevelyan [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebark/pseuds/littlebark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as she can remember, every time she's helped there has been a consequence. For once, all she wants is to not feel like helping will only bring her trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prayers and Gratitude

She was five years old, and her hands were hot and then cold. It didn't hurt, didn't think anything of it, really. She was more concerned with the cat yowling in pain, it's front paw twisted in such a way her own ankle hurt in sympathy. She moved slowly, didn't want to startle it and risk it trying to bolt away.

The cat turned its head, tail flickering back and forth quickly, it's fur on the back of its neck starting to stand. A low hiss wove in between its painful mewling, not once taking those yellow eyes off her.

"It's okay," she whispered and held out a hand so it could sniff her, "I'm trying to help. I don't want you to hurt."

It seemed to accept this enough to let her get near. Up this close, she could feel the cat shivering and breathing quickly. Linette settled herself next the cat, taking comfort in its warmth and careful not to move it as to not cause it more pain. She grabbed the cuff of its neck gently, like she had seen the mama cats do. Her furry friend meowed in protest but didn't try to get out of her grasp. With her free hand, she took a hold of its paw and grimaced. It was bent all wrong and even the slightest touch caused the cat to wiggle. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and wished for this tiny creature to stop hurting.

_Blessed Andraste, I know I'm supposed to thank you all the the time and praise your name. And I do. I always will. But I'm not asking for me, I don't need anything. Please help this kitty. It's in pain, I don't want it to be. It hurts to see it like this. Please help, and I promise I will stop stealing cookies from the kitchen. I won't climb up the trees to hide even though it's time for bed. Pretty please help. I'll be good, I'll be good, I'll be good._

"Linette?"

Her eyes sprung open and she looked over her shoulder where her Papa stood as tall as the trees in the courtyard. He looked at her with a curious look on his face, his mouth open in a tiny circle and his brow furrowed. Lord Trevelyan swept the corridor area with his eyes and satisfied no one was looking, he crouched down next to her. "What are you doing, my darling girl?" he asked, smiling when Linette shifted to show him the cat. "Ah. I see you have made a friend."

Linette kept her eyes on her Papa, and whispered. "It's hurt. Please help."

He turned his gaze to the cat. "Linny, other than it being in danger of being crushed by you, that cat is in no pain."

Her whipped her head downwards, eyes widening as they landed on the cat's paw. Had she not been there minutes before, she would have never thought it had been bent. She let go as if burnt, gasping. The cat scrambled as it tried to get its footing before running away without a backwards glance. "But.... but Papa. It _was_ hurt. It's paw-"

Lord Trevelyan smiled at his daughter, though it did not wrinkle the skin around his eyes the way she loved. "Cats are agile creatures, they land on their feet all the time. I'm sure it was just scared."

"But Papa-"

Her father stood up, scooping her up easily into his arms. He held her for a moment too long before he said, "Linette, sometimes what we _think_ we see isn't real, even if it feels like it is. Do you understand?"

She pulled back and looked into her Papa's brown eyes, the color of the chestnut horse he loved to ride. Placing her tiny hands on his cheeks, she pulled his face and planted a kiss on his nose. "I suppose so, Papa. I love you."

He squeezed her, digging his face into the cascade of her raven black hair. "And I love you, dear one. More than I know what to do with."

"Then just love me more," she said as if it was just that easy. Perhaps it was.

*

She was eight years old and annoying the cook because she was _bored_. It had been raining non stop and she wanted to be outside. There was a nest full of eggs that she had spied when she was climbing a tree the day before and she wanted to know if they had hatched. If the mama bird came back. If she didn't, were they cold?

Her dress was muddy at the hem, causing the cook to roll her eyes. Natalia the cook laughed as Linette moaned her disappoint at the weather, her already wavy hair having grown in size overnight thanks to the humidity. She used it to make beards and mustaches, causing Natalia to laugh even harder. She couldn't help but grin. The cook set down a plate with cookies on it in front of her, tussling her hair with affection before she grabbed a pot, forgetting that the handle was hot.

She let out a cry of pain, let the pot fall to the ground with a clatter and clutched her hand with the other. “Pass me a rag, my Lady,” she begged through clenched teeth.

But Linette had already jumped down from her stool, was already running towards her. She grabbed the cook’s hand and felt that familiar hot-cold feeling in her hands before she watched, before her very eyes, the cook’s flesh mend.

There was a heavy pause as they both watched the mending flesh and the blue light that surrounded it. Frightened, Linette pulled away and shook her hands desperately. “Make it stop, make it _stop!”_

Natalia reached for Linette's hands, her mouth hanging open before she pulled the sobbing child into her chest. She closed her eyes, soothing her while Linette clung onto her like her life depended on it.

“Oh, _Maker_!” The fright in the unfamiliar voice caused Linette’s stomach to fill with dread. She watched as Natalia pushed her firmly away, fixed a stern glance her way before she marched after the swirl of skirts that had been at the door seconds before.

She shivered violently, teeth chattering and skin damp with her sweat. She refused to look at her hands, didn't want to even touch anything for fear of hurting someone else. Just outside the kitchen she could hear Natalia threatening the young maid, her voice low and dangerous. She is unsure how long she stood there, eyes closed until she felt familiar hands on her shoulders.

Her eyes flew open, and saw sorrow in her father’s eyes. He said nothing, merely took her into his arms and let her cry. They both knew what came next, and in a tiny voice she said, “I can’t pretend it didn't happen, Papa. My eyes were open. I _saw_ it.”

Lord Trevelyan nodded slowly, lifting her once again as if she were that small child just trying to help a cat. Natalia stood in the kitchen, her hands clutched and staring at Linette with tears in her eyes. The maid is nowhere to be seen. Her hands snaked around her father’s neck, holding onto whatever little comfort she could find.

*

She was sixteen years old, and she was woken in the middle of the night by templars. Her first instinct is to scream, and she began to until one of them said, “Apprentice Linette Trevelyan. It is time for your Harrowing.”

Tears sprung to her in her eyes but she blinked them back before they could fall. No time for goodbyes, to send her final letter to her family? Would she fail or succeed? She had no idea what waited for her.

Her slippers were on the side of the bed, and the templars gave her privacy to change into her apprentice robes. She didn't bother throwing her hair into the bun she normally wore, didn't think she could have held her hands steady to gather it all up if she tried. Instead it hung around her shoulders like a cloak, slight waves of midnight black hair. She stole a glance in the small mirror she had next to the bed, tried to ignore how pale her normally glowing skin is. _Like the caramel candy Papa brings back from Antiva,_ she frowned at the reflection and willed her heart to stop racing. Perhaps that would ease some of the green tinge. Unlikely, with how much her stomach was rolling with wave after wave of nerves.

"I am ready," her voice was stronger than she felt and she was glad for that. Taking a deep breath, she opened the curtain that obscured her small area from the rest of the room. The faces of her fellow apprentices peeked at her from their beds, eyes wide with fear and apprehension. This is what they were trained for, ripped away from their families so that someday they could take their Harrowing and show that they could control their magic.

 _I am ready,_ she thought again and offered the other girls a smile. She tried not to feel too much disappointment when she looked at the templars and saw Ser Nicolas there. With regret in his green eyes. Tried not to think too much of why it's regret in those eyes and not determination to carry out the Maker's duty.

They led her upwards, where she knew the Harrowing Chamber was. With each step the feeling of dread eased away and was replaced with excitement. She would not fail, it was not an option. She could not wait to tell her Papa next time she saw him that even though she had failed them by having magic, she had not failed them by learning to control it.

The air in the chamber caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. She looked around uneasily and tried ignore the fact that someone had failed in this very room. Probably more than just one person had gone into Fade ready to kill their demon and instead it had been them that had been killed.

She barely noticed the ceremonial words spoken by the First Enchanter, now that this was happening she could barely stop fidgeting. The lyrium was brought out, and her stomach twisted at the word 'demon'. Her time at the Circle had been mostly spent reading, gathering as much knowledge as she could. Her offensive spells left something to be desired, as it had always been her barriers and healing that had been strongest in her. Fire had been her first offensive magic, a different feel on her hands than the hot cold that she had become accustomed to.

"Are you ready?"

Linette looked up into the First Enchanter's face, refused to look at anyone else. She squared her shoulders, clenched her fists and nodded, "I am."

It was quicker than falling asleep, she marveled as she looked around the Fade. Taking a moment to center herself, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 _Find the demon. Kill it. Get out of here. Easy enough,_ the thought escaped her before she groaned. It was never that easy.

She walked for awhile, trying to maintain a brisk pace. Time was of the essence, that she knew. And while she was at least friendly with most of the templars - _make certain you know their names, her mama had said, it may save you if you show them you are are a real person and not just a potential abomination -_ she didn't want to risk taking too long.

She opened a door, and walked into a room that felt too familiar. Looking around at the cozy cushions and bookcases full of tomes, she hesitated before she walked inside. There was a fire in the room and Linette stopped before it. It reminded her too much of home, where she’d sneak into her Papa’s study and curl up in the chairs, a great book with lovely drawings on her lap while her father conducted his business from his desk. Occasionally he’d have treats for her - _sweet caramel candies from Antiva, melting on her tongue._ No sooner had she thought of this, she felt a lump in her hand. Lifting her palm, ignore the dread that tickled at the base of her spine, she let go and frowned at the candy in her handy.  
  
It smelt like home.

“You can have it you know.”

Linette knew it was a desire demon before she turned around to face it. Instead of answering, she simply let the candy fall to the ground and glared.

The demon laughed, caressing its body and tilting its head. “You think I do not know what you want?”

“I think you know _exactly_ what I want,” Linette snapped, taking a breath to ready her mana, “here’s the thing - I don’t want _anything_ that you could give me. You will show me my family. I know this. But it wouldn't be real.”

It’s pale eyes stayed on her before it waved its hand lazily. Linette let out a snarl, hands flickering with small flames. The demon ignored her and turned its gaze to the figure it had materialized.

Linette frowned. It was not her mother or father, the two people she had expected. It was a woman with a swollen belly, her hands on it while she looked down lovingly at it. “I don’t know anyone expecting a child!” she said victoriously, “you have _failed_ , demon.”

It tsked at her, “I told you, mageling. I know _exactly_ what you desire.”

At this the woman turned its head and Linette gasped. It was her. The look on this older version of herself was so full of love for this child it made her heart ache. “I do not desire this,” she whispered, clenching her hands.

“No? You do not think I see your longing, child? You do not think I hear your anguish at the knowledge that as a _mage_ you will never have a child of your own? Oh, you may someday carry one to term but you are a fool if you think that they will let you keep it. Your family’s name can only carry you so far, Lady Trevelyan,” the demon purred as it circled the future version of herself it offered, “but this is not _all_ you desire, is it?”

“Stop,” Linette growled through clenched teeth, unable to tear her eyes away. Her heart felt as it was being torn in half as she watched a man with no face walk towards her future self. Kneel before her, tip his forehead forward until it touched her belly. His hands on top of hers as he raised himself up and touched her face tenderly.

The demon’s laugh was chilling. “Oh you sweet innocent thing. You desire this, do not lie to me. You desire to pass on all the good things your family gave you. The caramel candies and laughter and love that you do not get as just another mage at the Circle. Let me give it to you. Let me give this to you, this future you cannot have without me.”

Her future self was in the man’s arms now, head tipped back onto its chest. Looking happy. Relaxed. Content. Linette looked up at the demon and said, “I am going to wake up now.”

At this, the demon faltered. “You cannot just wake up, mage.”

“Can’t I?” she snapped, ignoring the frantic voice inside of her that asked ‘ _can you?’_ “This test is one of _will_ , demon. To show we are not idiots, to show we have some common sense. I can resist temptation, because while you are right -I do desire this- I know it can never come true. No matter how much you promise. I know my place. I know what I am, and how dangerous it can be with beings like you whispering in my ear, false promises that have no weight in the real world. I am going to wake up now.”

“You cannot just _wake up!”_

She shot the demon a glance, ignoring the panic she felt when it flew at her. Her eyes slammed shut and when she opened them again, she was back in the Harrowing chamber. Ser Nicolas was at her side, sword drawn and doubt in his eyes.

“So it _was_ just that easy. It’s just me,” she said easily as she pushed herself to her side, “nobody else. Promise.”

Later, when they asked her what she faced, she was glad for the secrecy surrounding the Harrowing. She knew that she could never tell anyone what she desired. They would look at her with pity. The poor mage that wanted a family of her own above all else. She did not need their pity, did not need to hear how sorry they were for her.

She was already ahead of them, the heartache of her reality settling in her heart.

After all, she knew the future that waited for her.

*

She is twenty seven and helping Adan with the potions. A wounded soldier had come in earlier to ask for his healing, and he said, “think you could help with this?” she nearly kissed him with gratitude.

The very idea of _helping_ someone instead of killing people had made her more than eager to heal this young man. He seemed a little terrified of the look of delight on her face and she had to remind herself again that this wasn't just another day. They were in the middle of a mage-templar war and people were scared of her. Of the magic she had. Of the power it gave her even though she had never wanted it.

Linette had sat the man down on a chair, examining his arm. Another recruit had swung too wide and fast and clipped his shoulder so part of the skin hung off. Before she called forth her mana, she had crouched down in front of him and waited until he’d met her eyes. Explained what she was going to do, and if at any point he wanted her to stop, she would.

He didn't. She ignored the fact that it was probably the pain that fueled that answer and not that he trusted her. It had given her purpose and she called on magic as familiar to her as her own face. It felt good to watch someone’s face, taut with pain, go slack with relief and gratitude. She didn't do it as the Herald of Andraste. Made sure to tell him her name when he began to thank her as the Herald, and smiled brightly at him when he thanked her, her name still foreign on his tongue.

And now she found herself basking in the afterglow of that small victory. She was smiling to herself, crushing elfroot and humming a hymn when there was a knock on the door.

“What’s this then?” Adan said, his voice thick with irritation as he crossed the small house, “since when did this lot get manners? They just march in here, demanding potions and healing and - oh. Commander. What can I do for you?”

At Adan’s greeting, Linette's head whipped to door and cursed when the grinder missed the bowl and hit her thumb instead. Hissing out a particularly vicious phrase that involved Andraste’s flaming knickers, she strained to hear what Commander Cullen was saying. It had only been a couple of weeks since she’d joined them and no matter how much she was beginning to like Cullen and Cassandra and Leliana (Josephine had never been a problem. Somehow she suspected it had a lot to do with her being a _really good_ Ambassador), she couldn't shake the feeling that she was about to get in _trouble_.

 _Silly_ , she chastised herself. As far as she knew, they would listen to her concerns and thoughts. One might even say they valued her opinion. Maybe.

“I was hoping I could speak with the Herald of Andraste,” she heard Cullen say.

“And I supposed you were also hoping I could take a walk,” Adan said with more attitude than was probably advised when speaking to the Commander of _all_ the Soldiers of the Inquisition.

Instead of the reprimand she was expecting however, Cullen chuckled, “I had hoped I could persuade you to let us use your space, yes. I heard Sera singing along with the bard in the tavern, she seemed to get louder as I walked further away. I thought perhaps you may need a drink after a day of healing our forces.”

“You don’t have to sweet talk me, Commander,” Adan grunted as he took off his work belt, “And it wasn't me doing most of the healing today. Make sure you two close the door behind you. Last thing I need is to come back to a bloody cold house.”

Cullen stepped inside as Adan walked out, clasping his hands behind his back like he always did around her.

She made certain her hands were visible, as she had grown accustomed to do around him and every other templar she’d come in contact with.

She wondered if they truly knew how silly they _both_ looked. “How can I help you, Commander?”

He chuckled lightly, “every time I come to find you, it seems that is your greeting towards me. I feel like I am meant to bring bad news when you do.”

Linette raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly, “do you bring bad news?”

“Not today, I’m afraid,” he replied with an ease she had not heard before, “I heard from one of my soldiers that you healed him.”

She blushed. Her chin flew in the air as she put the bowl of crushed elfroot on the table and crossed her arms. “He was hurt.”

“He was. And had you not healed him, he would have been out of commission for several days, at least.”

Confused, she frowned and tilted her head, “why do I sense there’s a but in there somewhere.”

Cullen shook his head, “there isn't. I merely wanted to say thank you.”

Once, twice, she blinked at him before she managed to breathe, “I… come again?”

“Thank you. You have enough to do while you are scouting the Hinterlands, that I imagine coming back to heal a soldier isn't your idea of relaxing,” he said simply.

“I… I like to help,” she raised her hands helplessly, her brown eyes searching his face, waiting for the rug to be pulled from under her. When she was certain this was not a trick, she said, “I am a better healer than I am a murderer.”

He flinched and ducked his head, “that is... you are not a _murderer_ , Herald.”

She could not escape the dry laugh that escaped her. Linette smiled apologetically, “I think the templars and bandits I strike down with lighting and flames would beg to differ, Commander.”

Cullen looked up at her, his eyes blazing with conviction. “You are doing what needs to be done. Without you-”

“I know,” let out a slow breath and nodded slowly at him, “trust me, I know. I tell myself everything you’re about to tell me to make myself sleep at night. These rogue templars didn't _have_ to break away from the Chantry. The rebel mages we encounter didn't _have_ to pull away like they did. The bandits each side has hired _could h_ ave chosen a better line of work. The fact of the matter is that even though I tell myself this, that its either kill or be killed… it is still hard striking someone down when my whole life I've dedicated to healing and protecting those I care about.”

“I… understand,” he said at last.

Linette looked at him for a second before lowering her eyes to her hands, “yes, I believe you do.”

“I thank you, Herald.”

She waved his thanks away. “It was nothing, Cullen. Barely a cut. Took less than a minute to heal.”

Cullen took a step forward, shaking his head, “No… not just for that, but for what you’re doing. You've grown your inner circle more than we’d ever hope to do. You make alliances daily. You… kill those who would do us harm. Trevelyan, you were not trained for this life. I know the life that you were trained of, and frankly, I am amazed you are holding up as well as you are. If you ever need to talk…”

It was tempting. He was looking at her with such open honesty, with respect instead of the caution she thought she saw on his face most of the time. Because it _was_ so very tempting, she deflected and said, “If you ever got me to start talking, I would never stop.”

He was not a stupid man, and realized what she had done. For a second she thought he would press her, but instead he gave her a quick nod before saying, “then perhaps another time, when we both have more of it.”

She rewarded him with a wide smile and a nod of her own, the echo of his thanks draped around her like a blanket, “perhaps. Thank you, Commander.”

“Herald.”

He walked out of the hut, and Linette turned back to the table. She watched him walk away, his walk steady and sure, calling out his greetings to soldiers on the way. They were conversations away from being friends. There was still too much of their previous training ingrained into both of them, no matter how much they both were trying to make the world a better place.

_Make certain you know their names, darling. It may save you if you show them you are are a real person and not just a potential abomination._

Ser Cullen Rutherford. Ex-templar. Commander of the Inquisition. And, if Linette guessed correctly, someone she would butt heads with often. She was too much of an idealist, and he too much of a realist.

She could hardly wait.


End file.
